


R's Diary

by snailsluck



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Bisexual Grantaire, Diary/Journal, F/F, F/M, Happy Ending, Hippies, Joly is sometimes Jolene, M/M, Mediocre Grantaire Week, Modern AU, R's musings and struggles, Tattoos, being adult sucks, in their twenties, punkers, young folk
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-08
Updated: 2014-03-08
Packaged: 2018-01-15 00:37:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1284709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snailsluck/pseuds/snailsluck





	R's Diary

**02-03-14**

So I am very bad at --everything. I'm still doing this though. Like a fucking normal person would -could. Just yes. I am fucking doing this. It needs to be a new page every time though. I can't stand looking at my own shit. Except that I do. Even though I know only I like it. I've got shit tons of drawings and abstract paintings only I like -hidden somewhere under all this junk on my floor. Like really. I am being serious, it doesn't matter how much I do them, how much I make progress. It's just stuff I like, no one else. Just the very thought of that makes me hate them. I've burned a lot of them because of that. I miss them. I hate them. The ones still here. I'm glad I hid them. However I just know I am going to find them again by accident when looking for -socks -or a fork, something. Then, I don't know, maybe I'll like them again or the memory of them will be instantly blackened and I'll burn bunch of my things again. Last time I scorched my arm hair. Just as well.

 

**03-03-14**

Bought a drawing tablet (like a week ago). Today I did the installing. Took me whole day practically. I just gave up at some point and continued reading fanfiction. As it turns out I just didn't understand the instructions. Had to download a pdf file and muddle through terms and words, and other shit until I found what section I should read. Yeah. After I got it installed, I found, all the time, the whole thing had been instructed VERY simply -with only pictures too!- on the packaging. I mean I know I think I am so much smarter and have more brains than some people, but really. And really not, I don't. I'm walking talking idiot who thinks half of the time everyone else is a goddamn idiot. I didn't go to school today either. I am blaming many things on this. Monday, early mornings, late nights and you. I wrote in you last night. Though I did read after that a lot. No, really, this weekend was just somehow harder. I don't know. I can't explain it. It's like that after calls from my parents. Mum.

Also spent so much money on this tablet I don't think I'll see them there for awhile. Whatever. Like they'd notice, or bother to wonder. Or if they did, they wouldn't. Just 'oh R isn't here? That drunkard, must be breathing his foul breath somewhere else. Or passed out.' Whatever. 'Maybe R needed to take a time-out of him.' Or him of me, more likely. Like he often says. Loudly and in my face the last time.

 

**04-03-14**

I feel so helpless and alone. Nothing could have dragged me to school this morning. Well my excuse not going was that I haven't showered in …I don't know, a week? Suddenly I am worried about appearances again. Also I have had very little progress with the cat since I started drinking again last week. It dislikes me when I am shy of it. I am shy of it when I feel unworthy. I am. (I'm sober though.)

**second entry, evening**

Oh, the cat, yeah. I don't know why the fuck Cosette thought I'd be able to handle some semi-wild cat to foster and tame. I am barely domestic myself. What I really came back to write was a reminder I really need and want to wake up tomorrow. Tomorrow is art lessons. I don't want to miss them again. If I won't wake up early for school I will not go out for anything for the rest of the day. Just, I know myself. Wait, it's the EU help-package day tomorrow too! It's going to be at least partially when art class is. I need the food. Okay, but we have a deal now. Wake up when the alarm says so!

 

**third entry, night**

This is like a test! Test what sort of parent you'd be and feel miserable about failing. With the cat. I'm supposed to be the mother, to pick it up from the neck and pet it irregardless of anything. Even if it hates me. Can't I just be the distant parent who'll give rational advice when asked and the fun, makes you laugh -type. I am not ready to be a single mother! Can I sent out a personal ad for like "Will you be the mother to my cat?" type of thing?

 

**07-03-14**

Okay. A lot has happened. No, actually very little has happened, but my mood. It has changed. It was fucking fantastic to be back at school. I think some might have actually missed me. Not that I was gone because of that. it just felt so good, so normal, to be back. Back in the system I guess. Not having to worry about what I'm doing with my life.

Of course there's the events of getting homework where I occasionally will feel inadequate and dwiddle with them and maybe not ever return them because of that. Again. I am blaming my parents. Mum. Somehow succeeding has become… no wait, no. Let's not go there. I am content. I like this. Perhaps not the fact that I have to distract myself with a system or rather surrender myself to the system. No. However the fact that I am like anyone else there. I know I am always seeing their mistakes in their person or their opinions, but still I do not let my ego to fill. It'd fill with nothing, but isn't that basically with what anyone's ego would fill up. I am being serious.

No matter how good you are with something, the best even, filling ego is filling yourself with nothing. None of it has any consequence in yourself. Your essence. See! I am in one of my clearer minded times. I'd love to explain in lot more detail how I am shitty with keeping my head clear on this, but I am afraid it'd just ruin this moment. Anyway, I was thinking of filling my schedule again. I used to have overtly overflowing schedule when I was living with my parents'. Mum's. Like hobbies and stuff.

Apparently I am not so good at organizing myself to do anything on my own even though I want to, but there's something I'd really like to do. That is play an instrument. I've always wanted to play a bass or a guitar. I guess guitar is the obvious thing to want and the bass is something I have always felt fascinated of. Honestly I don't know which I wanted first. To bassists I've always felt more sympathetic to.

Though. It's silly. My problem. See, I know I will not be very good with either of them. I don't know if I'll even pass bearable! If I suck at guitar people will think, well he reached high. And he's quite stubborn for not moving on to bass already. And more you know um what's the word, um lets try reasonably: not everyone is a virtuoso; he just needs hard work and practice. See. As to bass… people have made it seem like it's for idiots. Easy to learn. I am afraid to even touch it because of that. I still want to. I want them both. I think I'll buy them both. Also next month's allowance is also settled. (If I can get a booking that soon.) I'm getting a tattoo. I know I know. Still. Let me have this. I am freeing myself. Loans and allowances have gone in liquid sedate for much too long. I am getting something that will stay.

Never have I even fed myself this well. (Also we are NOT counting the days, it seems mistake. Just not touching the bottle. That's the thing.) What about the cat? Well, I'm not doing much on the petting it to be tame -project, but I am companionably conversing with it. It's enough to keep my inadequacy sealed. It's like it was. You know over the Yuletide. Just the cat and me. Before my mum just magically got her hands on it with her cooing, and mum instructed what I should do. I fucking hate how complicated my relationship with orders and rules and advices are. You know authority. So yeah student debt increases and oh bugger I don't really know. Fucking hell. The art class was great. It was. Really. Cosette was a saving angel again and agreed to get the bags of food for me from the food queue.

Though she has so many others she's helping with them. I'm just another charity. (Fuck it's hard to think of Cosette and stay uplifted. You know. It's just, fuck. She doesn't deserve this. So I'm going to stop. Now. Here.) The class. Art. Or scribbles really you know. The teacher advised me to practise on little pieces, of this special paper we moved on to now that we get to use colours and all, before moving on to do a bigger piece. Like everyone else has. She didn't say that. No. (It was evident.) Also I agreed. I didn't know what I was doing so (I hardly ever do), but yeah. It was great to experiment different styles, before I decide what I want. Just what I want. No-one else. I am doing this for me. All of it. This life you know. All in all there must be thousands of times I have come to the conclusion this is what I want, but--yeah this time. This time. fuck Enjolras. Fuck the gang. Yeah it's Friday again. I'm not going. I'll go when I feel like it. I am not their entertainment.

Okay--okay, but not any more.

Yeah. Fuck anyone laughing AT me. Sure I laugh at me, but surely -- I can even laugh at the matter that I haven't much touched the drawing pad since I bought it! Since I (finally) managed to install it. Hah! I find that funny. Don't you. …Maybe you don't. It's that it's on screen. However you don't know what that means to me. But… but yeah. I'll get over it. Anyway, drawings are easier to erase than to burn. Perhaps less satisfying. Also more like they never existed, --like I n-. no. I'm sipping my cocoa milk and feeling good. Feeling good and not much drawing by hand either after buying that thing.

I don't need to leave a mark. I don't have to succeed. --I can tell myself those sentences over and over again, but they are hollow. As it is most of us don't have these as choices. Things aren't 'if you put your mind to it'. Everything I can feel content about is something I can hurt myself with, be bitter about, like the stuff with the drawing and teacher, but this is where I got to put my mind to. Not succeeding. Not that. I can feel the bitterness though. It's such a habit. Only hobby I never let go of. Collecting them, even when I really rather wouldn't have self-pity sessions.

Unbelievable how many ups and downs this entry has. Okay, but now. And in the end. It's just me. Just and only me. Doing things. Not 'my things'; I am not blazing any ways. Still things I like. That's all there is to it. (I swear to you I am not purposefully trying to make this sound depressing. In fact the opposite. Guess this really tells what all of us have been raised to. A world of conquering the impossibles and being the hero, doing the incredible, becoming good or great or the best. Famous and riches.)

(And really, …I just can't look at his face that's all. I'd go. I want to go. He's _everything!_ Honest to god he is so much. I have no idea how anyone can bear to look at him and not go drunk! Everything we are taught to come. Dream-seeker, handsome, beautiful--really it wouldn't matter if he's both, the opposite, neither or anything in between, all genders can see him as their ideal. Or taught ideal. He even opposes having such singular ideals! How is that! He's everything and he opposes that! Yet with no self-pity or pity to others!)  
  
My point --MY POINT IS NO ONE IS _PERFECT!_ Agh. (He always comes to my thoughts. He does even have healthy amount of ego. Well rounded he is. _god_.)

Why do I have such menaces in my life!? I even seek them out! I can notice anyone to be perfect, but me. Even the most boring and grey individual, but me. All I need is the peace of mind I've been trying to tell you of and I too, I think, would be perfect. In my imperfectness. You know like an animal natural in it's habitat, not feeling caged and wistful for something else. I am a fucking human being. I am a human being. I am a human being. I need to respect that. Myself.  
(I really want to go.)

…

…There are things we call surrender in life. That's why there were gods for the Greek. Too.

 

**second entry, night**

Just so you know, I didn't go. I got tumblr, but I'm missing e.

 

**08-03-14**

SO? You know it's not fucking illegal to get drunk 11AM on a Saturday night. cocoa powder +milk + triple sec, on a tall glass. WITH A SPOON. Fuck I'm classy. It seems they didn't even have a meeting yesterday. Like I'd know anything. Like I haven't hang out with them two years now. I guess I haven't. I've just been there. Laughed with them. Made jokes, been a joke. You know. Drooled all over tables.

I wasn't in school Friday you know. Sort of expected to see Musichetta again on Friday. I think she did too, if "See you tomorrow" isn't that far reached to analyse as such. She's the 'some of my class' I think missed me. Some one does, huh! Yet I didn't go on Friday, I never even set the alarm. So she's got this hot date today and I helped her pick the right outfit for it on Thursday. I know it will go well; she has this sort of ease with people she wants to have good time with. I think I need to send her a double entendre well wish, or you know most likely in my case not so suave punning or over emphasizing coming a lot. …All of them. Yeah. All of that. I don't want to be a jerk, so I'm sending something. To think she actually missed me! She didn't say it. I mistrust anyone who says that so easily.

So, what I'm thinking is I can't seem like a jerk now. She was so happy to see me again! That's how I think I know it. That she missed me. I came in the classroom and once she noticed me her face cleared and she greeted me merrily with "Look the lazy-ho-bag decided to come to school!". Yet I was kinda serious faced and still trying to wake up, though I was pleased to see her too! It's just it was difficult morning again. I think I managed an imitation of a smile to her.

Still she said she was a bit nervous. About the date. They are meeting at a bar. They met a at a bar too. We picked an outfit she looks ridiculously sexy in (without looking she's trying hard or desperate). The bloke as she described him has a large cock and an infectious smile. They laughed a lot and I felt again like such a voyeur, listening to her. Soaking all of it in. Always makes me realise how utterly hopeless I am with people. Never have I had sex I enjoyed (a tired and drunken blowjob I gave, but couldn't finish, does not count nor does masturbation or foreplay). Just seeing someone try to start flirting with me drains me. Or then I need to be drunk enough to shut my brain, but also as a consequence I become unable to relax in to the whole shaggity bang. (How could they ever actually like me! Enough to want to shag even!)

Never knew I had a friend in her. Or she just likes a listening non-judgemental ear. So, huh. I am easily forgettable by the gang, but I guess I am a right bastard. I don't want to be a jerk. Do I even have friends. You're my friend, aren't you, diary. You're my friend. (That's so lame) No, I guess I am being a jerk. Just now. Having no faith in my 'friends'. No I mean friends. Friends friends. They are such. …Just do they like me? Do they know me? I guess it doesn't matter? Am I a jerk if that doesn't matter? How does friendship even?  
I guess the question is do I like them? I know I like them, mostly. Just not always with me. I know Cosette pities me. She is trying so hard to be the angel she already is. I hate pity. I do it to myself enough to know. Too much I do it.

Also I have finished my talk class of innocent cocoa milk. They are having the meeting tonight. I think, what I think is, the play is incomplete without the drunk bastard hanging at the corner. They shall curse the means of social media for me to stalk them and find out about the meeting. A facebook event! Who checks where others are going even?! Other than me who's obsessing over e. Just by a chance this morning. Nothing more. I am going to be a right jerk for showing up there tonight, but guess what: _I don't care._


End file.
